"In this decayed hole among the mountains
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind’s home.
It has no windows, and the door swings,
Dry bones can harm no one.
Only a cock stood on the roof-tree
Co co rico co co rico
In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
On Saturday, April 16, 2016, Ken Armstrong <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
Following CR's operatic Vivienne links I found this on the UK Eliot Society's site:
At first I thought that might not be a welcome sight first thing driving to work just before daybreak. Then I noticed, it being writ so large, that the stage is after all set by a wakening spring rain. The roots may be dull, but they're being stirred. An opening note of hopefulness arcing over the waste land?
On 4/15/2016 9:48 AM, Chanan Mittal wrote:
Operatic Song Cycle 'Vivienne'